


To Know Him

by WithTheKeyIsKing



Series: To Wear an Identity [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Matt Murdock, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Blackmail, Brainwashing, Child Abuse, Conditioning, Dark Matt Murdock, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), I'll explain, M/M, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Matt Works for Wilson Fisk, Matt is Part of the Hand, Mind Manipulation, Protective Natasha Romanov, Rape, Red Room (Marvel), Red Room Agent Matt, The Hand (Marvel) - Freeform, Training, Wilson Fisk is a Dick, he gets around ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13858242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithTheKeyIsKing/pseuds/WithTheKeyIsKing
Summary: Recently orphaned, Matthew Murdock is in high demand. And this time, Stick isn't the one to find him.





	To Know Him

**Author's Note:**

> So originally, this story was starting to get a lot longer, but I figured I could just break it up, make it a series, maybe do some side stories, because I'm a fan of this one and the world that's unfurling in my mind, I really am.
> 
> Hope you like it!

When Matthew Murdock is nine years old, he saves a man's life and loses his eyesight in payment. He also gains the enhancement of his other senses, along with the attention of some very powerful people.

After his father's death only five short months later, the first person to visit him is a man called Wolfgang von Strucker. The Baron promises to help him control his gifts, to avenge his father's death and fight those who would try the same things to anyone else. He offers Matt an outlet for the anger and confusion inside of him, a place to put it, to be productive and truly use his gifts.

Matt, with nowhere else to go, accepts.

Wolfgang is not the one to train him. The man who does is not blind and doesn't know how to truly teach Matt to utilize his abilities to their full capacity. After two weeks of no progress, the man disappears and suddenly a woman is there to teach him. She has enhanced senses, but that includes her eyesight. The lessons are an improvement over the man, but they still don't take Matt very far.

It's four weeks in that Matt learns the name of the organization he is with. He's heard of them before; Hydra, supposedly destroyed during World War Two by Captain America. Matt truthfully doesn't know a lot about them, but he knows enough to realize that they're not the good guys.

He is not with them for much longer. Six weeks into his membership, von Strucker shows up for the first time since their meeting. He watches Matt and the woman fight once before declaring that they will no longer be training him. Then another man appears to take him away.

Apparently, Hydra sold Matt to yet another organization that lives in the shadows, like a piece of property. This is when Matt realizes that his uniqueness is known, and quite a lot of people want to be the ones to access his abilities and use them for their own gain.

When Matt arrives at this new place, it is instantly clear that it is not like Hydra. The training room they bring him to echoes like only largeness can and he 'sees' stations for more weapons and fighting moves than he even knew existed. The training is hard and cruel and Matt screams more in those first four sessions than he did when the acid burned its way into his eyes.

His masters leave him no choice but to find a way to work around not being able to see, because they don't care that he can't. The woman at Hydra laid the groundwork for controlling his enhanced senses, but he has a serious disadvantage that she did not.

Red Room (aptly named, he learns, because of the blood red training room walls) mostly trains girls. They have twenty-six candidates who are training to become deep cover operatives, all of them vying for the winning title of the Black Widow. Matt is one of just seven boysand the only "Westerner"training there at the moment. The other six seem to really want the title of Wolf Spider, the male equivalent of the Black Widow, but Matt only cares about surviving training. He can worry about a title later.

They call him Mut-vee, and it takes him a bit to realize that the strange word they're calling him is a _name;_  Matvey, the Russian equivalent to Matthew. The moment Red Room takes him in, he is no longer allowed to be American.

The man he works with mostly is one without a name, but plenty of personality. The others seem to think him a mindless weapon, just a machine, but Matt knows better. Though he can't see, he hears and feels more than anyone else, and he knows that Yakov is hotheaded and determined and protective. He knows that Yakov cares for one of the female operatives. He knows that Yakov is human.

He knows Yakov cares about him, even as he punches and fights harder than strictly necessary with a ten year old boy.

Matt has been at Red Room for four months when he meets Natalia Alianovna Romanova, the current top choice for the Black Widow (and holder of the Winter Soldier's heart).

Natalia is ruthless and ambitious and so very skilled. She catches him in the training room one night after lights out, when he iswhen they _both_ aresupposed to be asleep. He is working with his bo staff, striking and twirling and perfecting his foot work because Yakov tripped him up that morning and the other trainer punished the boy for it. His back still stings from the repeated strikes of the belt.

Too focused on his practicing, Matt does not hear her until she is entering the room, instead of down the various hallways like he should have been able to. Splitting his focus is something he has to work on if he is going to survive.

"You hesitate with your back foot," is the first thing she says, after staring at him for a long time. Her voice is smooth and sure, confident in the way that only someone who truly knows what they're talking about can be. Then again, she  _is_ training to be the best liar alive, and she's top of the class. Still, she didn't get to be top of the class by not knowing what to do with her feet.

She spends the next three hours training with him. She does not hold back, quick to press her advantages, but she informs him of each flaw he has. She, though not being blind or possessing enhanced senses, gives him advice on how to proceed with what seems like perfect understanding. He does not know how she understands so accurately, but her advice truly helps him get better.

Each night they train together, and she helps him master Russian since that's all anyone really speaks at Red Room. Matt respects her and appreciates her company more than anyone he's met on this insane ride. Natalia is cold and calculating, but she is also quick-witted and has a kind of dry humor he enjoys immensely. She would probably not call them friendsfor having a friend is a potential weaknessbut Matt knows that they are.

A few months pass, and the masters start teaching him to resist torture. They start with physical harm, burning and cutting and electrocuting and waterboarding and other things Matt can't even place a name to. It takes him a while, the pain excruciating and he just wants it to _stop,_ but he learns what they want him to, and he reaches a point where he does not give up a single piece of information they ask him for.

They then move onto psychological, giving him drugs to make him unsure of what is real, seeing nightmares and perfect dreams, both kinds designed to get him to want to tell his secrets to alleviate the fear or gain the happiness. They try to play at his weaknesses, and he overcomes this form of torture far faster than he overcame physical harm, because his mind has already been broken enough.

Lastly, they do something to him he's never considered: they rape him. Both men and woman do this to him, and this is the worst kind of abuse by far, because he feels _invaded,_ _violated,_ feels like he has lost all of his control, feels like the only way to regain control is to give them what they want because at least that would be his decision, but that's just what they want. And Matt sees the lesson they want him to learn in this, sees that they are teaching him that his enemies might resort to this and he cannot let it affect him, sees that he cannot fight a loss of control, can only accept it and move onto the next thing.

For two weeks afterwards that third abuse, Matt flinches away from everyone, struggles to breathe sometimes, becomes prone to outbursts. But Red Room cannot have an assassin, a spy, who can't control his own reactions, who can't handle the after effects of abuse, so any time he shows a PTSD reaction they beat him or tie him down, forcing him to get rid of the responses for his own well being.

He hates and loves that they are successfulhates that they have taken everything from him, even his own emotions; loves that they have conditioned him out of his fear and pain, loves that he can sleep through the night again.

* * *

Matvey starts going on real missions when he is thirteen, along with Natalia. This is also when they kiss for the first time. This is when he thinks he loves her, and thinks she loves him, too.

When he is fourteen, Matvey is pitted against the one other remaining boy who is still in the running for the Wolf Spider title. Niko Constantin is an effective killer, but he is hotheaded and hard to control and Matvey is able to use his well of anger against him to take the other boy down and snap his neck. The handlers give Matvey the Wolf Spider title because he has earned it, but it is not the name most people at Red Room call him.

Most of them call him the Red Devil.

Just two years later, Matvey leaves the Red Room. He is one of their best agents, definitely in the top three with Natalia, but the handlers finally realize that his and Natalia's bond could be dangerous, that Yakov is looking out for the both of them way more than he should, and they make the decision that the three need to be separated. Natalia is given to another handler, Yakov is sent permanently out of country and loaned to other agencies, and Matvey is once again given away.

The Hand is calmer than Red Room was. They start not with more physical training, but psychological. The first thing he does when he arrives at their compound is enter a room with a man who asks him countless questions about his life, about his opinions on different things, about everything he's experienced. Matvey had been with Red Room for six years; he was trained to lie and hide weakness, but he quickly learns the punishment for lying to this man.

Somehow the man knows when he is lying, even though Matvey knows that his act is perfect, that his heartbeat doesn't even _change_ he has become so good. He is slapped when he lies, and after the fifth time his cheek is burning and his lip is bleeding, so he decides to forgo his original plan because it is simply pointless. Matvey answers question after question honestly, revealing more about himself than he has in years.

It doesn't feel right, not after years of hiding.

Matvey knows that they're using all he told the man to worm their way into his head, to prey on his weaknesses and shape him to fit their goals, but that does not stop it from working. He was taught by Red Room to resist psychological torture, but this isn't torture, this is programming, and it is not short term, it is _months,_ it is never-ending.

The first time he kills a man without a single moment's hesitation simply because his sensei told him to, Matvey goes back to his quarters, gets in the shower, and sobs.

This is not what he wanted to be. This creature he's become, this dark being that has taken control away from the sweet little boy who simply wanted to get justice for his father, is a monster. He's become nothing more than a weapon, a blind teenager who sobs in the privacy of his room not because he just took a lifeno, he feels no remorse for that, which is disgusting in and of itselfbut because he is not his own anymore. He is loyal to the Hand. And that is going to destroy him.

Matvey has been with them for seven months when the leaders call him to them and examine him. There is something tense and charged as they stare at him, like they can see into his soul, his very being. After a long while the woman directly in front of him cups his face in her hands and stares in his clouded eyes for what feels like forever. Then she smiles and says, "My, oh my. Aren't we lucky. And it took us so long to notice..."

After that, his missions are far more frequent, his training's intensity increases, and he has more than twice the conditioning sessions. He doesn't know what they saw in him to make them act like this, like it's more important than ever for him to be loyal to them, for him to be even more perfect than he already is. He doesn't understand, and no one offers any explanations, and the one time he asks, his sensei strikes him. So, he lets it go.

Matvey has been with them for two years when he helps capture a man who leads the organization dedicated to destroying the Hand, called the Chaste. The man is blind, like Matvey, and also like Matvey, his senses are so much more than anyone else's. Stick experiences the same "radar sense" that Matvey does, and this sparks a curiosity deep inside of the teenager.

One night, Matvey goes to the prison cells, sneaking quite easily around the guards. Stick is sitting in the center of his cell, eyes closed, his breathing deep and calm.

"I can help you, ya know," he says without opening his eyes. Matvey simply stands, waiting, watching in his own way. He hears the man's eyelids slide open. "You're very skilled, but so young. You still don't fully understand your sense, do you?" He tilts his head and doesn't give Matvey a chance to reply. "How long have you been with The Hand?"

Not knowing why, Matvey answers honestly. "Two years, just about."

"And where were you before that? Red Room? You fit better with a martial arts style of fighting when I saw you, but you've got some moves like a roomie agent."

Matvey nods, and then wonders if the Chaste leader is able to sense that movement like he can.

His unspoken question is answered when Stick replies right away. "Thought so," he says with a chuckle. "One owner to the next, huh, kid?"

Matvey frowns and wants to refute, but it's true. He hasn't been his own person since he was ten years old. First Hydra and then Red Room and now the Hand. Eight years of his life, molded to fit whoever holds his leash. He doesn't even know who he really is anymore. Just a weapon, just a soldier.

Stick stands suddenly, moving closer to the bars and leaning against them. Matvey can feel him examining him just as heavily as the Hand leaders do, and very carefully doesn't shift. "You..." he trails off, sounding surprised, and then chuckles slightly, a little breathless. "Damn. You're the...and with the _Hand..._ " he shakes his head. "I can help you," Stick repeats.

Matvey wants to ask what he was saying, what he was saying _about_ Matvey, but he ignores his curiosity because the Hand has made it clear that he's not to ask questions, especially about himself in relation to the organization. So he just rolls his eyes.

"You're in a cage," the teenager reminds the man. "The Hand is going to torture you for information and then execute you. I'll probably be the one to strike the final blow. You're in no position to help anyone."

Stick grins, and Matvey can hear his cheeks pulling back, hear the puffs of breath that follow as the leader is amused. "Well, you're acknowledging that you need help, which means there's a piece of what you were left. That's good."

"I'm loyal to the Hand," Matvey replies automatically. "They took me in when I was discarded and gave me a purpose." The words hurt his throat but echo loudly around his mind, sounding like all of his senseis since he joined the Hand.

"I'm sure you are, and I'm sure they did," Stick responds reassuringly, a hint of condescension in his voice. "I'm also sure that you wish you weren't and that they _bought_ you, and that the purpose they gave you isn't the one you would have chosen for yourself."

Matvey purses his lips. "You don't choose your purpose, it chooses you."

"It seems to me that the Hand is the one that did the choosing," Stick replies mildly, as if simply making small talk.

At his sides, Matvey's hands twitch, balling into fists and relaxing and then tightening again, the process repeating a few times. He wants to punch something, he wants to fight. Stick makes him feel on edge, makes the part of his brain that sobbed at that first kill itch for a breath in the light.

When he starts to feel his lungs tighten, he walks away without another word. He doesn't know where he's headed, but when he ends up in the training room, he is not surprised. There are four people in there, even this late at night, and the second he enters he attacks the man closest to the door. He has the advantage of surprise, but he is not there to kill the members, simply release his tension, and when the man gets his wits about him and makes it a real fight, Matvey is relieved.

He takes all four down within three minutes. They are not as good as he is.

The next day, Matvey enters his room and finds a piece of paper folded and resting on his pillow. In a messy scrawl someone has written _Time to choose your own purpose, kid. All it takes is one second of bravery._

Five minutes later, he learns that Stick has just escaped. Two hours later, so does Matvey.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Matvey has no master. He really doesn't know what to do.

Since he was ten years old his life was structured; training and beatings and missions and brainwashing and conditioning and killing and spying and doing everything he was told to do on a schedule. Since he was ten years old his life was surviving and serving.

He goes back to the States. He hasn't been there since one of his first missions with the Hand, and even then he was only there for five days, and nowhere near New York.

It's been a long time since he actively missed his city, but once he arrives, once he gets the full force of the sounds and smells and feel of his home, the weight of the longing he hasn't felt in a while comes rushing back, and he is truly _relieved_ to be back.

He has a lot of money saved up. He isn't stupid, and Red Room taught him a lot, and he put some money away anytime he got it. Red Room and the Hand didn't really pay their members, but Red Room didn't mind looking the other way if you stole it from your targets, as long as it wasn't extremely noticeable and you didn't get caught, and the Hand simply didn't care, since they were doing it themselves anyway.

So with his reserve of cash, Matvey buys a really great apartment (that no one wanted because of the neon billboard shining in at all hours, not a problem for him) and tries to decide what he wants to do.

He is a killer now, and he cannot change that. He is an assassin, a spy, a creature.

When he was younger, his father raised him Catholic, which is pretty clear in their opinion on murder. Being back in New York is making him think about that quite a bit.

His father...Battlin' Jack Murdock. It's hard to remember his life Before what happened sometimes, but when he does, he tries to miss his father, and sometimes he succeeds. Eight years of having your emotions stripped out of you makes it difficult to remember what it is to feel sentiment for someone who is dead.

Red Room taught him that death is simply what happens. The Hand taught him to embrace it.

When he thinks of his father, he knows that he was loved. He knows that for longer than not, there was someone in his life who cared for him unconditionally, who always protected him. He knows that he was terrified every time his father got in the ring, because he loved him unconditionally, too. He's afraid that he misses that feeling instead of his dad, himself.

Matvey goes to Fogwell's gym. The smell of the leather and sweat, the sound of fists hitting bags and others' skin, brings back so many memories. He spent so much time in this place when he was young, watching his dad and all the others, hearing them when his eyesight went away.

It is not quite relief that Matvey feels when the longing for his father grows in his chest to new heights, but it is certainly a comfort. It is a confirmation that he can still feel for other people, even if it's so much less, even if it's buried under years of removal.

It is being reminded of his father and his father's values that makes up Matvey's mind about what he wants to do now that he is free. He visits a man who forges a school transcript for him; having been not in a formal school since ten years old (and not even in the country) means that he doesn't have an actual education, but that doesn't mean that he hasn't learned.

Matvey is smart, Matvey is goddamn _smart,_ and he doesn't care that he has to forge an amazing transcript to get into a good college. He is determined to go to law school, and this is the only way to do that.

The forger laughs at him for such a strange request, but that doesn't bother Matvey in the slightest. He pays the man a good sum of money for the perfect grades and a 1560 on his SATs and a 34 on his ACTs and record of extracurriculars, so who cares if the man is amused?

When the man asks for a name to tie the background to, Matvey only hesitates for a moment before he feels himself settle and tells the man Matthew Murdock.

Three months later, Matthew is accepted into every college he applies to. He decides on Columbia University because it means he can stay in the city and because it's an incredible school. They also offer him quite a bit of financial aid, not that he really needs it.

Matt meets Franklin Nelson and finds the first real friend he's had in a long time. _(Natalia was his friend, was so much more, but Natalia also would have killed him if ordered to do so, and he would’ve done the same.)_ Foggy is funny and kind and doesn't hesitate to trust him completely, something Matt hasn't experienced since he was regular like Foggy is, like everyone else at his school is.

He knows that Foggy knows that something is off about him, but he also knows that Foggy doesn't care. Foggy has decided that Matt is worth his trust, and though Matt isn't sure he agrees with that, he lets it be. He lets himself have a friend.

Stick shows up about four months into Matt's freshman year. It is a shock to see the man who he'd just seen through the bars of a cell, but Stick has not come to start a fight or take him out; instead, he offers to train Matt. Many have trained Matt in the past, but none of them had done so with the full understanding of his abilities, which Stick does.

But still, he hesitates. He decided to go to law school because he wanted to put that life behind him, which would not happen if he chose to continue training. And yet, could he really turn this down?

So Stick trains him. Matt learns things about his abilities he's never considered before, and he is thankful to Stick for showing him how to become the best he could be. But five months later, Stick tries to recruit him into the Chaste, saying that he's more special than he realizes, that he's _needed,_  but Matt just cannot say yes. He doesn't want to become a member of another shadowed organization. He doesn't think he could fight the Hand, either, not with the conditioning still floating around in his mind.

Watching the only person who understands his abilities leave him is hard, but Matt got used to being left and losing people many years ago, so he does not let himself dwell for long. He focuses on becoming the best lawyer New York has ever seen.

* * *

Elektra Natchios makes Matt think of Natalia. Not because they are similar; if anything, they are quite different, other than both being female, fearless, and ruthless.

Elektra is fire and rage. She is wild and uncontrollable and passionate. Natalia was _is;_ still alive somewhereice and stillness. She is watchful and perceptive and shows her emotions through subtly instead of large actions. The two women are opposite ends of the spectrum.

But Elektra makes Matt _feel_ the way Natalia did. Elektra brings out a piece of him he hasn't touched in a long time and he revels in it. Every stolen car, broken-into house, sex in places they could be caught...It makes him feel alive. Natalia made him feel alive, too, in a different way, but alive all the same.

When the diplomat's daughter brings him the man who killed his father, Matt cannot even begin to describe the pure satisfaction he feels as his fists slam into Roscoe Sweeney. Over and over and over again, watching the man's face puff up and streak with blood, even the feel of his knuckles splittingwell, it's perfect. Exhilarating. Exactly what he's been waiting for since he was nine years old and Baron von Strucker promised him revenge.

So when Elektra offers him the knife, Matt takes it without hesitation. He presses it to Sweeney's throats and grins at everything he can hear, feel. Panicked breaths, throbbing heart-rate, the attempt to seem in control even as his fear and anger battle for dominance in that moment.

Matt can feel Elektra, too. She's just a few steps away, her breathing labored with adrenaline and lust. She's excited, waiting on the proverbial edge of her seat for Matt to drive the blade right through his father's murderer's throat. And he is ready, for years he trained and held onto the small hope for this moment. It will be so easy; he knows how to get rid of the body afterwards. Everything he's wanted since he was nine, right there.

"No," he breathes.

He drops the knife.

The room is deathly silent following the clang of metal hitting marble floor. Elektra has gone from flying high to confused and _hurt,_  and she is unsure. Sweeney, seeing the threat is clearly gone, goes right back into anger, even as he looks barely conscious from all the hits to the face. The man opens his mouth to spew some more threats but Matt punches him before he can say anything, knocking him unconscious.

Elektra's breathing has picked up again, but instead of being exhilarated like before, she is panicked, troubled. Matt shakes his head, not turning towards her. "No, Elektra. No, I...I swore I'd never be that again." He's whispering, sucking in even breaths to keep himself steady.

"I thought you understood me," Elektra replies, her voice broken and betrayed. Matt bows his head and doesn't let himself tell her how much he does, how much he wishes she could know just how _much_  he understands her desires. But he does not say that, and he lets Elektra walk out without another word.

* * *

What scares Matt more than the fact that he is tied up is that he does not know why or how he became that way.

He should have heard someone approaching him, or felt them grab him, or secure the ropes to his limbs. His enhanced senses should have made it impossible for anyone to sneak up on him, asleep or not. And yet here he is, sheets rougher than the ones on his own bed beneath hisnaked, save his underwearbody, wrists and ankles sore from the tight, firm ropes binding him to the ends of the bed.

Matt forces his breathing to remain even and reaches out with his hearing, listening for any sign that someone else is there. His eyes, though they could not see anything, dart back and forth on instinct as if that could help him.

There's no movement, no sense of anyone around him, untilthere. A door opens, twenty-five feet away. A man's footsteps, about 270 pounds, enters, moving around furniture. There is another door between him and Matt, and the man is headed directly towards the room where the lawyer is waiting.

The door creaks open, and Matt stays very still, but does not bother to close his eyes. He remains calm, staring up at the ceiling, deep breath in, deep breath out. The man is standing in the doorway, simply watching, and Matt waits.

Finally, the man steps further into the room. "Hello Matthew," he says, voice low and gravelly. "I'm sorry for the circumstances, but it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Who are you?" Matt asks. "What do you want?"

A small chuckle. "Quite a few things. Would you like to know the short term or long term?" Matt stays silent, waiting. The man huffs in amusement. "Alright, we'll start with long term. I would like you to work for me, Matthew."

It was Matt's turn to laugh, his a bit more incredulous than the other's. "You could have just, I don't know, visited me at my internship like a normal person who wants a legal counselor instead of tying me to a bed and probably drugging me."

He hears the man shake his head. "You misunderstand me, Matthew. Though you are quite the promising lawyer and I will happily use those services as well, that was not what I meant. I was referring to your other, more unique skills."

Matt's chest tightens. No, this random man could not possibly know about him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The man steps closer again, so that he is now right at the bedside. "I'm talking about your skills as an assassin and spy, something that shouldn't even be possible considering how you can't actually see."

Well, no point in denying it now. "How do you even _know_ about that? Who _are_ you?"

The man's grin is practically audible. "I have a man at Landman and Zack who told me about his promising young intern Matthew Murdock. My business partners in the Hand gave me some very interesting information on you after your name came up. They were quite pleased to know your location."

For the first time in seven years, Matt feels a spike of fear. If the Hand has found him, then they'll take him and reinforce all the conditioning they installed in him during his time with them. He does not want to go back to them. He does not want to not be completely in control of his own mind.

"Oh, do relax, Matthew," the man says, amusement clear. "I will not be returning you to their service. I'm telling you this as an...incentive. If you agree to work for me, I will make sure they do not bother you. You will simply have to work for me."

"Work for you," Matt spits. "Be your assassin, your killer. Just what they would have me be."

"No," the man says evenly, completely unbothered. "They would strip you of parts of yourself to make you theirs even within your own mind. I simply wish you to do as I say. I will not invade your thoughts or wishes. A small difference, maybe, but one I know you can appreciate. Also, they'd ignore your impressive talent as a lawyer, which I will not do."

Matt's brain moves at a thousand miles a minute as he tries to figure out a third option. But he is in a tough position; this man does not seem like one to not follow through on his threats, and his heartbeat has not changed. If he declines, the man will call the Hand and they'll take him away. At any moment, the Hand could swoop down. Does he really have a choice?

"Alright," he says quietly. "Ok. I accept. Can you untie me now?"

"Wise decision, Matthew," the man says, pleased, and sits on the edge of the bed. "But no, I'm afraid I cannot yet release you."

"Why?" Matt snaps. One thing Matt truly hates is being restrained. "I've already agreed to work for you, to do whatever you want. Untie me."

"I'd like to seal the deal, Matthew." His hand lands on Matt's bare thigh, the meaning startlingly clear. Matt's pulse skyrockets and he opens his mouth to protest, but stops when the man's hand tightens painfully and he interrupts. "No, no, Matthew, do not argue. You just promised whatever I want, didn't you? And you are quite the specimen, my boy. I want you."

"No," Matt says, voice strained, pulling against his bonds as anxiety slams in his chest. "No you can't do this. Let me go _now!"_

"It's alright," the man says soothingly. The bed dips as he crawls onto it, his knees on either side of Matt's thighs. "You might even enjoy it." He draws Matt's underwear down slowly and lets out a pleased sigh. "Oh, Matthew; quite a specimen, indeed."

"Get off of me!" Matt yells, thrashing.

The man ignores him and shifts so that he can separate Matt's legs a bit more, giving him access to the lawyer's hole. "No!" Matt yells again, his wrists and ankles burning from pulling so hard. The man reaches over and opens a bedside table drawer, pulling out a small object. Matt hears a cap pop open and the _squelch_ of a gel being squeezed out. Matt closes his eyes tightly, his hands balling into fists.

The fingers, when they enter him, are thick and painful. The man slows but does not stop when Matt's breath hitches in pain, and from there Matt remains stony, refusing to show any other reactions. In this moment, he is incredibly grateful to Red Room; they taught him how to handle this, how to handle an enemy giving this kind of abuse, and he will not be broken by it.

It is a strange mixture of hard and fast, and slow and sensual. Matt almost gags when he feels arousal stir in his gut as the man hits his prostate, but he quickly clamps down on his disgust, removing himself from the emotion.

The man is heavy, his weight pressing down on him, and Matt's relief is intense when he finishes and pulls out then off the bed. "Incredible, Matthew," the man says, slightly breathless. "I look forward to doing that again.” He approaches the bed again and Matt tenses, hearing the blade in the man's hand, but all that happens is the ropes holding him down being cut.

"I will call to inform you of all your duties and when I need you. I am going to shower; feel free to let yourself out."

"Who are you?" Matt croaks as he sits up. He rubs his raw wrists and winces as he puts weight on his ass.

The man doesn't even pause. "My name is Wilson Fisk. Good day, Mr. Murdock."

* * *

Working for Fisk is very different from working for Red Room or the Hand. First, Fisk gets him out of his internship with Landman and Zack and hires him at one of "his" companies in a high-ranking position as his legal consultant.

That is his official job. More often, Matt is Fisk's body guard, negotiator, dinner guest, andfar too frequentlyhis assassin. And he is _very_ good at all of his jobs. He hates himself for how much he enjoys taking people down for Fisk. He is often sent to "teach people a lesson" and "get people in line", and the violence feels very good after so long doing nothing.

He is also forced into being Fisk's fuck-buddy whenever the man is horny, which is quite a bit. He quickly learns it is pointless to fight back; Fisk only has to tell the Hand that he's fair game and all those years away will have been for nothing. So, he deals with it. He lets himself be manhandled and fucked without a word of protest and is thankful _thankful,_ how disgustingthat Fisk doesn't make him come or tease him for getting hard at the abuse.

One year passes, and then another, and another. Matt hasn't talked to Foggy in fourteen months, hasn't seen him in over eighteen. He misses his friend, misses the life he had before Fisk got to him, but it's for the best; Foggy would be a liability, a pressure point that could be used to control him if he ever steps out of line. He knows that Foggy is hurt and confused and a little angry at how Matt pulled away after landing such a _wonderful_ job, but there is nothing Matt can do about that now.

On the day aliens pour from the sky, Matt is finishing up a local assassination, and he is in a prime spot to experience what is happening. It is destruction at its purest and in the aftermath of what people take to calling "the Incident", Fisk steps forward to try to make a profit off of others' misfortune, just like he always does. Everyone is different now, now that they have all seen what is out there, and they're a lot more cautious. Fisk revels in acting like he's their shadowed savior.

For his twenty-eighth birthday a month later, Fisk gives Matt the night off (as he did for his twenty-seventh and twenty-sixth). At a loss for what else to do, Matt goes to Fogwell's Gym. He simply sits on one of the benches and listens to the others box and use the punching bags. It is comforting to hear those sounds and smell the sweat and leather. He can almost picture his father there with him, practicing.

When the gym eventually empties, Matt gets up and moves to one of the punching bags. It is relaxing to throw punches and practice for a reason other than to do Fisk's bidding.

He spends hours there, and when he finally expends the tense energy that had been building inside of him, he heads home. Early in their _'partnership',_ Matt asked Fisk to allow him to have his own apartment instead of moving in with him like the crime boss had wanted. Fisk had agreed, but with the condition that _he_ got to choose where Matt lived.

This resulted in a loft apartment in a very nice part of Manhattan, a far step above his old one in Hell's Kitchen. But he misses that old place sometimes, simply because it represents a time where his life was completely his own.

Matt showers and changes into his pajamas, but after lying in bed for twenty minutes with no success of feeling tired, he sits right back up and gets dressed. After a moment's deliberation, he goes to Josie's, the bar he and Foggy used to frequent.

Josie, understandably, seems surprised to see him, but not one to be caught off guard for long, the bar-owner moves past it and offers him a drink with a sarcastic remark. Matt can't help but smile in response before ordering a beer and taking a seat.

On the TV, a reporter is talking about the clean-up efforts going on to help rebuild the city after The Incident. The Avengers have been helping, apparently, Captain America and Iron Man being the ones seen most often, the captain on the ground lifting things way heavier than what a normal human could handle and Stark working on the stuff higher in the sky. Apparently the billionaire is funding most of the reconstruction.

The reporter shares that Thor has been completely absent, and The Hulk has not been seen, but there are rumors that Bruce Banner is staying in what is now being called Avengers Tower. The last two members of the team are seen helping every once in a while, but never for long enough to have their identities accurately known.

The only thing the public has to go off of, the reporter says, is that one is male with dirty-blonde hair and an unparalleled aiming ability and the other is a woman with bright red hair and incredible fighting skills

Matt's head snaps up, his eyes pointed to where he knows the TV is, hoping for more information, but the reporter is already moving onto the volunteer network in place to help those who lost their homes in the attack. She says no more about the skilled red-haired woman.

It's probably wishful thinking. Approximately 140 million people in the world have red hair. It's likely that some of them know how to fight. It doesn't mean it's her. She could be dead, for all he knows. The life of a spy is a dangerous one, and the last he saw her she'd been fifteen years old. That was twelve years ago. So much can happen in twelve years. So much _has_ happened in twelve years. She could be dead.

Or...

The young girl had just claimed the title of the Black Widow when they separatedshe was the best of the best. It's likely that she is still alive, with her talents. But working with a team of superheroes? Why would Red Room's top agent do that? And if she had left the program, the question of _why_ she is on that team is still a relevant one.

Matt wants to go check. He wants to go to Avengers Tower and see if it's really her, if it's really his Natalia. He wants to know how she left Red Room, if she knows where Yakov is.

But then Matt considers the position he is in. Fisk holds his strings; one word from the crime boss and Matt is back in the possession of the Hand. He doesn't think Fisk would like him speaking to an Avenger very much. And if it isn't Natalia, if it is simply another womanand a _superhero_ nonethelessthen he's just exposed himself to a lot of unwanted attention.

But if it is her...

That night he does not get a lot of sleep. He tosses and turns and his dreams are filled with conflict and hard memories. He is tired in the morning, but he has never let that stop him before and he will not today, especially because he has three meetings lined up for the day to protect Fisk's interests, one of which might end in an assassination, another which could lead to a loyalty-reminding beat-down.

He goes through the day as he should. He is composed in his meetings, ruthless when he needs to be, smooth and calm when he doesn't. He is good at all of his jobs, but the one where he gets to be a lawyereven in the service of helping bad peoplemakes him feel the most like he could still find a way out someday.

Everything goes well and no one needs to be hurt, which frees up more of his day than he had expected, and that usually means spending more time with Fisk. But instead of the less pleasant activities Fisk usually has him participate in, all he has to do is act as a bodyguard while Fisk goes about his day. He takes out a pair would-be attackers and is rewarded by not having to follow Fisk back to his apartment since the man has a few things to do.

It is only six PM and Matt is free for the day, at least three hours earlier than his minimum day usually is. These early days are always nice, but now the free time simply gives him more time to think about Natalia and the Avengers and whether or not he should go see if it's her.

Matt stops thinking and hails a cab to take him to Avengers Tower.

He stands across from the tall building for a few minutes, debating with himself whether or not this is something he should actually follow through on. But he has come this far and had already decided to do it. He can't stop now.

The lobby of the tower is nice, not that he should have expected anything else. The receptionist is tapping away at her computer, focused on what she's doing but also seeming like she is keeping her attention on everything else going on.

The blind man heads towards her, his walking stick bouncing back and forth. The woman looks up when he gets close enough to speak to, but is definitely aware of him before that.

"Hello, Sir," she says congenially. "What can I help you with?"

"Hi," he replies with what he knows is a charming smile. "I'm here to speak to someone who I believe is staying with the Avengers."

Matt can practically feel the woman's guard go up. "I'm sorry, Sir, but meeting with the Avengers is not possible when you simply walk in. Would you like me to set up an appointment with one of our representatives? They'll let you know when you can meet whoever you're looking for."

The lawyer can read between the lines, and he knows a brush off when he hears one. And yes, he definitely didn't think through just waltzing in and expecting to be allowed to meet with a superhero. People must try that all the time.

He laughs a little self-deprecatingly. "I'm sorry, you must be so used to fanatics coming in and wanting to meet the team of superheroes. But I'm not that; I believe an old friend of mine is up there, but since she hasn't been identified by name in the press and I can't _see_ her in photos, I'm not sure. Her name is Natalia Romanova? Maybe just the Black Widow?"

The receptionist frowns at him and is clearly now much more alert. Her reaction is all Matt needs to know that he's in the right place. "I'm sorry, Sir-" she begins again. She knows what he's talking about, but she is not going to give access to some random man.

"Please," Matt beseeches. "Please, I just need to know if it's her. Just call up to speak to the _only woman on the Avengers,_ no matter what name she's going by, and tell her that Matvey is here to see her-"

"I'm _sorry,_ Sir-" the receptionist tries again, this time with a hard edge to her voice. But she stops when a person approaches the desk and steps up beside Matt. The receptionist lets out a small, aggravated sigh and her heart thuds loudly for a second.

"Mut-vee, you said?" the newcomerman, buff, strong heartbeat, kind voice, genuine interestasks curiously. "Is that Russian?"

Matt frowns and turns towards him. "Um, yes. Why? Who are you?"

The man blinks for a moment as if taken aback, and then laughs at himself. "Sorry, I'm not used to people not knowing me but you're-" he laughs again, a bit more awkwardly. Matt raises an eyebrow. "Sorry. I'm Steve." He puts out his hand to shake and then drops it after a moment, embarrassed. Matt resists the urge to chuckle. "So I heard you talking about knowing the Black Widow. How?"

Normally, Matt would not go about revealing such sensitive information to random people approaching him, but he can feel something that means that his answer now is important, that it will decide what happens next. So, he decides to be honest. "I trained with her when we were young. I haven't seen her since I was sixteen and then I heard the report of a skilled red-haired warrior and I couldn't stop wondering if it was Natalia."

The manStevestares at him for a few more seconds, before nodding decisively. "Thank you, Ali," he says to the receptionist finally. "But it's ok, I'll take him up." He then begins heading towards the elevator bank, calling, "follow me," to Matt over his shoulder.

"Thanks for the help; you have quite the tough receptionist," Matt says with a smile as the elevator begins to ascend.

Steve chuckles. "Yea, she is. Our last onethe one who worked here before it was Avengers Towerwas a lovely lady, but wasn't very good at handling the persistent, aggressive people who came in. She changed to work as a secretary in another department, and we got Alisandra Morales, former agent of SHIELD. She makes sure no one gets in who isn't supposed to."

The rest of the (quick) ride is spent in companionable silence, and when Matt feels the elevator begin to slow right near the top, his heart begins to speed up with nerves. The doors _ding_ open and Matt can hear two heartbeats in the immediate vicinity, one three hallways away on a treadmill, and another one floor up, tinkering with something metal.

Out of the two heartbeats in front of him, Matt would know one of them _anywhere._ A steady and perfectly calm pulse, breathing always precisely regulated. She has a book on top of her folded legs, pages turning in even intervals.

"Natasha," Steve calls out. "Someone here to see you."

The name is wrong, but she's used so many names throughout the years, hasn't she? And the way the steady heartbeat flickers for a moment, the breath catching in her throat for an instant, the way she is immediately on her feet and striding towards him, tells him everything he needs to know.

"Natalia," he breathes, and her arms are around him, pulling him close and he embraces her right back, holding her tightly. It has been twelve years since he last saw her, and underneath a new shampoo is a scent that is all her. Everything is all her, and _oh,_ how he missed her.

She pulls back but does not go far, staying close. "Matvey." She is back to perfectly composed, no signs of her burst of emotion, but he isn't offended; the fact that Natalia showed so much feeling just then is enough to warm him for a long time. "How are you here?"

"I've been living in New York for the past ten years," Matt replies with a light laugh. "Last night I heard a reporter talking about the Avengers helping with clean up and she described the skilled redhead and, well," he smiles a little. Having her so close after so long has him wanting to never stop smiling. "It sounded like you. Which was impossible, because no way was the Black Widow on a superhero team," he smiles teasingly, "but I had to check. And...you're here."

"And I'm here," Natalia confirms softly. She reaches out and squeezes his hand briefly, a small comfort for both of them, and then tilts her head. "What happened to you?" she asks. "When I left Red Room I searched for you, but it was like you'd simply vanished from the face of the Earth. There were hints that you'd joined the Hand, but by the time I got there, there was no sign you'd ever been there. I half thought Red Room had simply killed you and lied to me and Yakov about it."

Matt's heart lurches at the mention of their old friend. This is so strange to him, speaking to someone who was there as he trained to become the monster he is, someone who went through the same thing. Natalia is the same kind of monster, and she will always be one of the only people to truly understand him.

"Red Room did send me to the Hand," Matt confirms. "I was there for two years before I broke away, and came back to New York."

Natalia blinks, and ~~~~ ~~~~then she lets out a tiny, amused breath. "I forgot that you were originally American," she says. "You were always Russian to me."

Matt grins crookedly back at her. "I was Russian almost as long as I was American, so the mistake is easy to make, _moy drug."_ He hasn't spoken Russian as his main language since he left Red Room, hasn't spoken it at all since a couple missions for the Hand. He's happy how easy it is to slide back into it since Natalia was the one to really teach it to him in the first place.

The woman rolls her eyes at him, and the fond exasperation is so amazingly familiar, reminiscent of a time long passed. "Well," Natalia says, becoming a little more serious again, "you disappeared quite masterfully, Matvey. I really thought you were dead."

"I'm not that easy to kill," Matt replies softly, knowing the concern and fear that Natalia must have felt. Natalia squeezes his hand. "So what about you?" he asks. "How did you end up here? When did you leave Red Room? _Why_ did you leave Red Room?"

Natalia sighs, and Matt knows that quite a lot had gone on for her, too. "When I was twenty, SHIELD caught up to me," Matt tensed. "Yea," she agrees. "I'd been...slipping away from Red Room, I suppose; liking roaming more and more, and I was under the impression that they'd killed you, which made me even more distrustful. SHIELD managed to catch me and an agent was sent to kill me; he made a different call."

"You work for SHIELD," Matt marvels. "That's how you're on a team of superheroes. Wow, you really did a 180. Not judging," he adds quickly, feeling her tense minutely. "Not judging at all. Just surprised."

"You said you've been in New York for ten years; what have _you_ been doing?" she shoots back, lacking any heat.

"I started using my old name, went to school," he tells her with a small smile. "Became a lawyer, started defending people instead of taking them out."

Natalia chuckles. "Talk about a 180," she teases. "Look at us both, Matvey."

Suddenly, something strikes Matt. "Do you know what happened to Yakov?" he asks. "He was sent off when Red Room separated the three of us, and I didn't see him again."

"Still a controlled assassin," she murmurs lowly, quietly enough to not let the other two people in the room hear, making Matt once again very aware of them. "He shot me through the hip a few years back to kill the man I was protecting." Matt sighs and shakes his head, unsurprised. Red Room and their affiliates were never going to let go of Yakov, not with his abilities and blank mind.

In his pocket, Matt's phone buzzes, the specific pattern Matt had programmed for when Fisk sends him a voice message. His jaw clenches and his hands twitch; there are many reasons Fisk could be trying to reach him after he's been freed for the dayit's happened beforebut Matt's mind sticks on that Fisk had discovered where he'd gone, and is now giving him the consequences.

Natalia tilts her head, having noticed the minute shift in his body language, and Matt can feel her concern. "Are you alright?" she asks.

Matt wants to ignore it. He wants to leave his phone in his pocket, to sit down and catch up with Natalia, to eat some take out _do the Avengers eat take out?_ and feel comfortable with someone for the first time since he and Foggy had been close. But he can't do that; he serves at the pleasure of the Kingpin, and even if Fisk is simply contacting him for something as benign as picking up some fucking groceries, he has to answer. He has to obey.

"Would you give me a moment?" Matt asks, but he's already stepping away, not waiting for Natalia's response. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and presses the button at the bottom of it, raising the device to his ear and listening.

_"Matthew, I need you to come to Ricardo's; something has happened, and I have a job for you."_

For a moment, Matt lets himself stand still, eyes closed, focusing on his breathing. It is times like these when he is _acutely aware_ of the lack of control he has over his life, and for a moment he feels rage boil in his blood, hatred for every person who has ever stolen his life from him, broken him down and shoved something else back in, forced him to become another being all together.

"Matvey?" Natalia calls out, breaking through his growing fury, and Matt lets the anger out on a breath, rolling his shoulders. He deletes the message and puts his phone back in his pocket, then turns around to face Natalia again. "What's wrong?" his friend asks sternly.

"I'm afraid I have to go," he says apologetically. "Something came up that requires my attention." He doesn't know when he'll be able to come back, doesn't know _if_ he'll be able to come back. The thought makes his chest tight.

The lawyer can feel Natalia's narrowed, analytical gaze turned on him in full force. "What's going on, Matvey?"

He smiles at her, wide and charming, and lets out a light laugh. "Nothing you can do," he replies, hating the honesty of that statement. "Attorney-Client privilege, and all that."

"You just got here," Natalia protests stubbornly. "I haven't seen you in twelve years, and you're-" she stops, clenching her jaw. Matt knows what she was going to say, because he feels the same; _You're the only person I have who fully understands what happened to me._ "You can't just leave."

"I'm sorry," he says, refusing to let on how much he wants to agree with her, how much he doesn't want to return to Fisk. "I'll come back." He walks back over and kisses her quickly on the cheek, smiling softly. "I'm so lucky to have seen you again," he whispers, before pulling smoothly away and walking back to the elevator, pushing the button. The waiting is awful, because it just gives him more time to wallow.

"It was nice to meet you," the man from beforeStevesays, a couple feet away. And then the name and placement clicks, much more slowly than it should have. He chocks his lack of deductive abilities up to the all-consuming _thing_ that the meeting has been, but he curses himself again because he never really examined the owner of the second heartbeat in the room after identifying Natalia.

Matt lets out a little laugh at his own stupidity. "And yourself, Captain Rogers." The elevator arrives and Matt quickly steps inside. He quirks an eyebrow. "Would you mind pushing the lobby button for me?" He resists an amused smirk as he hears Steve's blood rush to his cheeks and then hurry over to push the elevator button for him with a murmured  _'Of course'._

As the doors begin to slide shut, Matt looks to where he knows Natasha is and smiles at her, unsure if this is the last time he will get to be near his oldest friend.

* * *

The  _job_ Fisk has for him involves squashing a would-be overthrow by one of their smugglers, Ricardo. Ricardo had pulled together a group of other workers who'd decided they were done taking orders from Fisk. Some of them simply wanted the Kingpin gone. Others thought they were smart enough to take the empire from Fisk. They were unimaginably wrong, and Matt takes all of them out because that's what happens when you betray Wilson Fisk.

Fifteen people dead, Ricardo tortured until his body simply can't take it anymore. Then begins the search to fill the positions that are now empty, something Matt has helped accomplish a few times in the past.

None of that is new, not really; the  _amount_ of deaths in such a short period of time hasn't happened before, but then again there's never been an attempted coup before, either. Matt has killed many people for Fisk, has hurt even more, so past a bit of discomfort, Matt knows how to separate himself from the deaths. None of what he did bothers him, and none of it will keep him awake at night.

What Ricardo said before dying, however,  _will._

After everyone else was dead, after Ricardo had been beaten within an inch of his life and then was off to be tortured more severely, Ricardo took a moment to look at Matt and sneer, his breathing ragged but his disgust and superiority so obvious that Matt's senses could pick the feelings up no problem. Then he said _'I might be meeting my end, Mateo, but at least I stood up for my beliefs. At least I am not a spineless lapdog. At least I am not a plaything to a psychopath. Can you say the same thing?'_

Ricardo had always been nice to Matt, always joked and laughed with him. Matt's always been aware of the pity the man felt for him, for his position. He's always known that someday Ricardo would voice his thoughts on the subject. Matt is just far more bothered by it than he thought he would be.

In the car ride on the way to Fisk's apartment, Matt is silent, the words playing over and over again in his mind. He barely even feels it when Fisk puts his hand on his thigh, tight and far too high for comfort. Matt doesn't react; he's used to this by now. Fisk is going to fuck him when they arrive at their destination, more violent because of the leftover adrenaline, and there is nothing Matt can do about that.

_At least I am not a spineless laptop._

The car stops and Matt gets out, easily heading into the apartment building and towards the elevator, waving his walking stick back and forth. He hears Fisk's steady footsteps as he says hello to the doorman, and when they enter the elevator, heading for the penthouse, Fisk stands directly behind Matt, their bodies pressed flush against each other. Matt can feel Fisk's erection pressing against the cleft of his ass.

The doors open and Matt exits into the apartment, folding up his walking stick and removing his tie, placing both on the small table near the entrance before turning to face Fisk.

The Kingpin removes the blind man's glasses, and Matt can feel him examining his eyes.

"It's always so amazing to me," Fisk murmurs, "seeing your eyes so unresponsive while the rest of you can't stop responding." Fisk reaches for Matt's hand and raises it to his lips, pressing kisses over Matt's split and bloody knuckles, humming lowly in his chest. Matt just blinks, letting him do it.

_At least I am not a plaything to a psychopath._

"Someday, Matthew," Fisk continues lowly, "you will be an active participant in these events. And I am very much looking forward to that when it happens, however long it takes."

Matt lets out a shuddering breath. It's the first reaction of any kind he's given since the first couple weeks he was with Fisk. Because what Fisk just said has deep, enormous repercussions. What Fisk just said means that the Kingpin has absolutely _zero plans_ to ever set Matt free. The realization hits Matt like a ton of bricks, and he hates himself for not having seen it coming.

Fisk licks Matt's knuckles, sucking off the blood, and the blind man can feel the Kingpin's smile against his skin. "Three years together," he murmurs. "Three years, Matthew. You're far too smart to only see your fate _now."_

"I won't beg," Matt responds evenly. "I won't; I'm above that. But I am asking you to grant me my freedom."

"You're free to go anytime you want, Matthew," Fisk says, amused. He starts pulling off Matt's suit.

"You know what I mean," Matt snaps back. "Allow me to leave without immediately sicking the Hand on me. I'm just going to ask you this once."

"Get in the bedroom, Matthew," Fisk tells him. "You have nothing worthwhile to offer me in exchange. You are _far_ more valuable in my pocket than off on your own. So unless you have something better, _get in the bedroom."_

Like always, Matt does as he's told.

* * *

The next night, when Matt returns to his own apartment, Natalia is waiting for him.

As he'd expected, Fisk had been extra rough with him last night, a mixture of adrenaline and proving his ownership after Matt's little realization. And now his day so far has been especially trying, with dealing with the fall-out of the would-be coup as well as other problems he'd already planned to deal with this day. He is tired, physically and mentally, and Natalia being here does not mean good things.

"What can I do for you, Natalia?" Matt asks with a resisted sigh as he walks down his apartment's steps and into the main room. She's on his couch, legs crossed and with one of his beers in her hand, and doesn't speak yet. He moves into the kitchen. "I'd offer you something to drink, but I see you've helped yourself."

"Wilson Fisk," she says.

Matt lets out a sigh, and gets himself a beer from the fridge. "What about him?"

He hears Natalia stand and move around the couch, standing just a few feet away from him. "You're working for Wilson Fisk." Matt just raises an eyebrow, waiting. His heart pounds heavily in his chest. "After you left yesterday, I knew something was wrong, so I watched you with some of Stark's tech." She pauses. "You took out quite a lot of people, Matvey."

Matt smiles, wide and charming and _sharp_. "I'm good at killing people, Natalia. You are too, as I remember."

He hears her purse her lips. They are both silent, the air thick with tension. Matt knows that Natalia is ready to wait him out for whatever information she wants, but he also knows that  _she_ is aware that Matt is very good at keeping silent. Natalia and he are equal in many ways, and he knows she has the one-up on him in an area or two, but it's been obvious from the beginning that he can outlast her when it comes to things like this.

Aware of all this, Natalia only lets the tense silence last for a few more moments before saying, "You taking those people out was not the only thing I observed last night, Matvey."

Deep in his gut, Matt feel the urge to vomit. He doesn't let his nausea show. "I never took you for a vouyer," he teases.

"I never took you for a victim," she shoots back.

He rolls his eyes. "God, Natalia. Don't be dramatic, I'm not a fucking _victim._  I work for Fisk, we fuck, and I get quite a  _lot_ of perks in return. Full consent and blah, blah..." He rolls his eyes again. "I didn't tell you because there was no reason to, and if you want to get technical I am simply the top legal consultant at a company where Wilson Fisk happens to be a board member; there is no proof of wrong-doings against him that isn't circumstantial."

"And I'm sure you help keep it that way," Natalia replies in a falsely sweet voice.

For a moment, Matt just stares at her. He was wrong to go see her at the tower. He  _knew_ it would draw unwanted attention but he did it anyway. It was weak, exactly what all those people throughout his life had trained him against being. It was sentimental, and just like they all said it would, it has caused him a world of trouble.

"Are you seriously judging me?" he asks incredulously. "You, whose job is  _solely_ about manipulation and murder? You must be joking."

Her heartbeat doesn't stutter, and neither does her breathing; she made peace with herself long ago. And no matter how much Matt equates them, he knows that their current positions are nothing alike.

Natalia, when she speaks, voices that precisely. "SHIELD gave me a new life, a second chance. I kill killers and terrorists and all those who threaten our world, threaten everyone's safety. I am on the _right_ side. You kill whoever your master commands, regardless of their innocence. It's no different from Red Room, or the Hand. You're still just some powerful person's lapdog."

Matt tenses and straightens, the phrase hitting an incredibly sore spot, and for a moment he wonders if the word choice is deliberatebut no; no one was in that cell to hear what Ricardo said to him, no chance of being heard. It's just a horrible coincidence.

_It's no different from Red Room, or the Hand._

Matt closes his eyes.

_"Work for you," Matt spits. "Be your assassin, your killer. Just what they would have me be."_

_"No," the man says evenly, completely unbothered. "They would strip you of parts of yourself to make you theirs even within your own mind. I simply wish you to do as I say. I will not invade your thoughts or wishes. A small difference, maybe, but one I know you can appreciate."_

"It is different," Matt says evenly, opening his eyes. "Fisk is not the same as them."  _A small difference, maybe, but one I know you can appreciate._

"Want to tell me how?" Natalia asks.

Matt purses his lips, but telling her the real difference doesn't mean telling her why he agreed to work for Fisk. So, he does.

"Red Room forced me to become something I wasn't so that I could survive. I became a weapon. Every single day I lost a piece of myself, and after a while I stopped feeling bad about it, which they couldn't have been happier aboutyou know, you went through the same thing. They shaped my mind when I was a child, and it stuck. And then when I joined the Hand, they took it a step further; they turned my mind against me until my choices were no longer my own. The conditioning was intense and pressing and never-ending.

 _"That_ is what the difference is, Natalia. Yes, I follow orders. Yes, I do what he tells me to. But when I pull the trigger or swing the sword, _I_ am the one doing it. I don't have someone else's wants in my head. I don't have someone else's thoughts driving my actions. And that, Natalia, is something I would do _anything_ to keep from happening again."

"I'm sorry," Natalia says quietly. "I didn't mean to...I know. But I still think there's something you're not telling me." She tilts her head. "What does doing anything to not go through that again have to do with Fisk?"

 _Stupid, dammit, you should've just stayed quiet._ Matt simply blinks. "I'd really like to go to bed, Natalia. I've had a busy couple days and I'm tired."

But Natalia has never been one to let something go, and now she's determined. "Tell me the truth, Matvey."

"Leave," Matt says, a sharp edge to his voice.

"Matvey-"

A fight is not something Matt wants to get into right now, but he wants her finding out the truth even less. Who knows what Fisk would do if an _Avenger_ discovered his blackmail over her friend, and then alerted her team. The Hand would be after Matt in an _instant,_ and they know exactly where he is.

So, with nothing else to do, Matt attacks the Black Widow.

The two of them trained together for years. She is incredibly skilled, but Matt knows exactly how she fights, her weak points and strengths, and his fighting style has changed _extremely_ since the last time they were together. She doesn't know how he moves anymore, which gives him a slight advantage. She is incredibly skilled, but Matt is on her level, and he has a mastery of his senses now, which he didn't back then. And he has the upper-hand in their environment.

Matt has no doubt that he will come out successful in this fight. He just really wishes he didn't have to.

Natalia won the title of the Black Widow above twenty-six other girls. But Matt wasn't just some soldier in the Red Room; he was the Red Devil, the Wolf Spider, one of their prized agents. And when he delivers a kick to Natalia's temple, she crumples to the ground, and he knows he has won.

* * *

Matt holds Natalia tightly in his arms, a blanket wrapped around her, her head cradled in the curve of his neck. He doesn't take a cabnot wanting to attract attention to the fact that he has an unconscious girl with himbut the car Fisk gave him long ago, and when he arrives at his destination he removes his friend from the passenger seat just as carefully as he put her in.

He can feel people on the street glancing at him, but this is New York and he's entering Avengers Tower, so what harm could he be getting up to? Their attention slides away easily.

When he approaches the receptionist, he hears her heart-rate spike and she gets to her feet. She recognizes him and she knows Natalia, and her guard has been raised.

"Hello," he says pleasantly. "Would you let me up to her floor, please? I believe she would like to rest in her own bed."

"Sir, what-" the receptionist gaps at him, clearly trying to wrap her head around the Black Widow being cradledunconsciousin the arms of a blind man. But she regains control and leans forward, pushing a button on her desk; behind him, he hears the elevator doors slide open. "JARVIS will take you where you need to go." He nods his thanks even though he doesn't know what JARVIS is, and heads towards the waiting elevator.

The ride up is quick and Matt uses it forcing himself to remain calm. He needs to get in and out, drop her off and then leave. He doesn't know what he's going to do after he gets home, because knocking her out once isn't going to stop Natalia, and there's always the possibility of Fisk knowing what he's been doingMatt wouldn't be surprised if Fisk is tracking him, whether with traffic cameras or by some other means. The one comfort Matt takes is that he at least knows that he isn't being followedhe is far too good to not notice if he was.

The elevator doors open and Matt senses two heartbeats on the floor; one of them is the powerful heartbeat Matt is sure belongs to Captain America, but the other is unfamiliar.

It's the unfamiliar person who pops to his feet and shouts, "What the  _fuck-!_ Natasha!"

Matt hears Captain Rogers stand up, his pulse speeding up as he takes in the possible hostile situation.

Matt takes a deep breath and smiles at the two men charmingly. "I believe Natalia is in need of rest; could you point me in the direction of her bedroom?"

"Like  _hell!"_  says the unfamiliar man, yelling again. Matt hears something mechanical flying through the air and he sucks in a sharp breath, realizing that this man must be Tony Stark, IronMan. IronMan, who is now putting on his armor. On instinct, Matt holds Natalia more protectively against his chest. Stark's breath hitches.

"Tony, stop!" Captain Rogers commands. "Lower your arms, for god's sake; he's not an enemy." Rogers looks back to Matt. "At least, I don't think so," he adds in a mutter.

"Nice to see you again, Captain," Matt says, making a subtle blind joke and relaxing a little when Rogers huffs in amusement. "Natalia and I got into a bit of an argument, and, well, I suppose I won this one."

"Excuse me?" Stark's voice is accusing. "Not to be _that guy,_ but you look pretty blind to me. Also, while we're explaining thingswho are you, exactly?"

"An old friend," Matt says smoothly before Rogers can say anything, like his change in breathing suggested he was going to. "Now, are you going to show me to your teammate's room for her to shake off the fight or not?" The men remain silent, hesitant. Even Steve, who saw Matt and Natalia interact the other day, seems considering. Matt can't blame himit's quite an odd, slightly suspicious thing Matt had just done.

Sadly, Matt doesn't have time to negotiate his way in, since after putting Natalia down the Avengers will probably want him to remain and explain himself, which Matt cannotand _will_ notdo.

So instead, Matt takes a few steps forward, ignoring the tense of the other two men, and places Natalia in Rogers' arms. The captain's surprise is evident, but Matt is already leaving. He senses the large, empty space he knows is the stairs and heads there, not wanting to wait for the elevator, for that is just more time for the two superheroes to confront him.

Matt hears Stark shout after him but as soon as he passes the door to the stairs, he's running, jumping down flights and sliding down barristers. He knows he has to leave, to get back to his apartment, to not raise any of Fisk's suspicions. But really, Matt is _terrified._ He's terrified that he's ruined everything, that he's on the Avengers' radar now, that they'll be tracking him, that Fisk will know everything because two trips to a superhero home is hard to miss.

He's terrified that the Hand is going to take him back.

He runs all the way back to his apartment, using the cover of night to allow himself to use the rooftops. He doesn't stop feeling severely anxious until he's on his own building's roof, and even then the anxiety doesn't completely fade.

Matt quickly goes to his apartment and slams the door behind him, finally forcing himself to take a few deep, calming breaths as he leans against the door. He needs to come up with a plan. He needs to figure out a way to keep Fisk in the dark, to keep Natalia away from him, to keep the balance of his life before he so royally screwed it up like an _amateur._

With a slow breath, Matt heads down the stairs of his apartment, wiping a hand over his face. He'll take a quick shower, shake off his anxiety, and then figure out what to do.

He's been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hasn't been listeningit is only then that he notices the heartbeat on his couch. His eyes slide shut.

As if on cue, Fisk speaks. "Hello, Matthew," he says, voice gravely as ever. "I'm glad you hurried back; I was hoping to speak to you sooner rather than laterthe less time you took getting home, the less time you had to consider running."

"So you know, then," Matt says, walking into the room. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets.

Fisk nods. "What were you hoping to achieve?" the older man asks. "Going to the Avengers; did you think they would be able to protect you from the Hand? That's spectacularly ignorant of you, Matthew. How easily you forget their power. Let me remind you."

They come out of nowhere. Eleven of them, all dressed in the garb of the Hand. Matt has beaten eleven people singlehandedly before, but never all highly-trained Hand warriors and they have surprise on their side; he'd been such a fucking  _idiot,_ focusing solely on his thoughts and then solely on Fisk. They'd masked their heartbeats for a small while, but he should have sensed them the way he can _always_ sense people.

_Fucking colossal idiot._

He moves into defense mode, protecting himself from the attacks coming from every side. Matt recognizes Nobu's unique flipping move, and Itsuki’s way of twirling his katana, and Goda's quick footwork, and Daito's unique hitched-breathing pattern. They're the best the Hand has to offer, and they're there to take him back, to make him the Hand's again.

Matt screams when Itsuki's katana goes through his calf, more fear and desperation than pain. He drops to his other knee, and Itsuki doesn't pull the katana free, knowing that it will make Matt unable to stand and fight while he probably could have with just the wound.

Still, Matt tries to struggle to his feet. He's stopped when two of the warriors take a tight hold of his arms, securing him in place. Nobu comes to stand in front of him, staring down with those intense eyes he has. Matt meets his gaze, refusing to back down, and doesn't make a sound when the ninja punches him hard across the face.

Matt spits out blood and ignores the sudden pain in his nose. He meets Nobu's gaze again, and once more the ninja hits him. Then again. And again. And again. Matt's head spins from the repeated hits and he falls limp, his head hanging against his chest. Only the grips on his arms keep him from dropping completely to the ground.

A hand cards through his hair and then grabs the red-brown strands tightly; the pain of it would have normally made him want to wince, but this time he barely feels it over all his other injuries and the dizzy cloud that's now covering his mind. The hand uses its hold in his hair to pull his head up, and Matt sees Fisk crouched in front of him.

"Oh, Matthew," Fisk sighs in disappointment, shaking his head. "What a stupid thing you've done. I kept you safe, and you went to the _heroes._ I truly don't understandwhat did you think they would do for you? You are a _killer,_ an _assassin,_ a _whore._ Did you think Captain America and IronMan would do anything except arrest you?"

"I didn't go to the Tower for help," Matt slurs, because he _needs_ Fisk to understand, because he needs to prove himself enough that Fisk won't let Nobu cart him off to the Hand to be reprogramed. In this moment, he'll do anything, absolutely anything. "Someone I know from my old life is there, and I just wanted to see them. That's all, I didn't want the Avengers to do anything, I don't, and they won't, because they don't know me. Please, Fisk. Justplease..."

Fisk's smile is patronizing. "It was just yesterday that you told me you were above begging. How fear can change us, yes?"

He's right, and Matt is _terrified._ "Please," he says again.

The Kingpin lets go of his hair, and for a second Matt struggles to keep his head up on his own, but he's unsuccessful and it falls against his chest again.

"The next time we see each other, Matthew," Fisk begins. Matt can hear him walking away, towards the stairs. Panic flares in the blind man's chest. "You will be in a very different mindset," he chuckles, amused. "That is, if the Hand gives you enough leash to actually see me again. Who knows? You did good work for me; maybe they'll put you in my care again."

"Fisk," Matt cries out, his voice a weak croak. He feels so dizzy, like he's going to vomit. "Stop."

"Goodbye, Matthew. I hope you retain that fire in your return to your old self." And then Fisk is gone, his heartbeat fading from earshot.

"Let's get him up," Nubo commands the others in Japanese. "We have a long journey back to the Temple."

They begin pulling Matt to his feet, and he tries to struggle, but every motion makes his head spin and his senses go in and out, and when they force weight onto his left leg his mind goes white with pain and he screams, having no control over his responses with everything happening. Matt feels himself slipping into unconsciousness.

itsuki kneels to pull free his katana, and as Matt black out, the windows of his apartment crash into a million pieces.

* * *

Natasha puts her momentum into a roll and then pushes herself to her feet. She doesn't hesitate to immediately throw herself forward, engaging a Hand member. Natasha hears Steve and Clint coming in right behind her and Tony flying in as well.

To fight the four Avengers, all _eight, nine, ten_ eleven of the warriors move towards them, which means the two who had been pulling Matvey to his feet drop him, and Matvey goes crashing to the floor in a limp pile. Natasha's chest clenches in anxiety, but she forces herself to focus on the fight in front of her.

The Hand certainly sent their best to take back MatveyNatasha isn't surprised; the blind man has always been the best of the best, and the Hand wouldn't risk losing him because they were stupid enough to underestimate him.

A quick glance around tells the spy that Fisk is gone, which sends a flare of anger through her. He can't have gotten far; they just did a check before crashing in through the windows and had seen the Kingpin. Natasha absolutely refuses to let him escape, not when he is so close.

She sees Clint using his bow as a staff against three of the men, which he's skilled with, but she can see how much he wants to get some distance to better do what he does. Steve's strength is working as a real asset for him against his two, but his shield has been knocked across the room out of reach and his fighting skills aren't on the same level as the Hand members'. Tony is blasting those he has clear shots to, but the warriors move incredibly quickly and he's missing more than he's hitting.

She makes a decision. "IronMan!" Natasha yells over the commotion of all the fighting. "Go after Fisk!"

Tony hesitates, clearly wanting to stay and help, but she knows he sees what she sees; the two assassins and the super soldier are the best ones to be in the fight right now, and Tony with his suit is the best to go after Kingpin. In her comm she hears him say _'I got it'_ and then take off. With one less thing to worry about, Natasha focuses her full attention on the fight.

With Tony now gone, the warriors he had been facing turn their attention to the remaining three Avengers. One is down, unconscious looks like, but one joins two of his friends in facing Steve and the other turns on her.

Clint stabs one of the men he's fighting and when the man falls, Hawkeye pulls the knife out and then immediately throws it right into the neck of a warrior who was about to slam a sword into Steve's heart. The super-soldier sends the archer a grateful look, and in response Clint tries to shout a warning as a warrior Steve had taken his attention away from darts forward and pushes a blade into the soldier's gut.

Both assassins call out for their friend, but they've both been doing this for a _long_ time, and they're good enough to not let it stop them. Natasha holds onto the knowledge that Steve has accelerated healing, and is probably going to be perfectly fine in a moment.

When a katana goes through her shoulder and then pins her to the ground with the force of it, she does not have the same belief for herself.

Natasha yells as a second katana is pushed into her, this time in her other shoulder. The ninja has shoved the blades into the wood floor beneath her, keeping her firmly in place and in continuous pain. She hears Clint scream her name, but she doesn't have it in her to respond; she's just trying to breathe through the pain.

The next time Clint calls out for her, his words are cut short. Natasha gasps in panic and turns her head, seeking out her partner. She sees that he has a knife in his leg that one of the ninjas is twisting, just as another ninja takes a firm grip of Clint's neck and then throws him to the ground. Clint yanks the knife from his thigh with a small grunt and tries to get back to his feet, but before he can, another warrior slams the hilt of his katana against his temple, making Clint collapse back onto the ground.

Natasha knows the blow wasn't hard enough to kill him _thank fuck_ because he turns to look at her. She doesn't know how he's still conscious, and it seems a just-barely thing; his eyes are clouded and distant, and his mouth hangs slack. He blinks heavily, as if trying to pull himself together, but when he tries to move he barely twitches.

Further away, by the broken windows, Natasha can see Steve curled up on his side. There's a large pool of blood around him, and she's thankful to see his body being wracked by shudders; that wouldn't normally be a good signstill isn'tbut it means he's alive, and alive means he's still healing. None of them are dead, no matter how close they seem.

The Hand warriors barely glance at them before moving away. For a moment Natasha is confused, but then she realizes: Natasha, Clint, and Steve are not their mission, and they couldn't care less about whether the three Avengers live or die. The warriors came for Matvey, and he's all they care about.

"No," she whispers, watching as the men walk over to Matvey's limp body. One of them leans down and heaves the blind man into his arms, holding him tightly in a fireman's carry. The warrior turns back to look at her, and the crinkles around his eyes tell her that he's smiling. Surprisingly, it's not a cruel or malicious expression.

"Do not worry," he tells her in Japanese, "he is going home."

* * *

The first thing Matt is aware of is the pain in his head.

The pounding is on another level and he barely controls a wince, barely prevents himself from squeezing his eyes shut; all that will do is alert his captors to the fact that he's awake. Then again, they probably knew from the moment he began to slide into consciousness, despite how well-trained he is to suppress any responses.

He's proven correct when he hears someonewoman, terrifyingly familiarsay, "Hello again, my child. I am so glad to have you back."

Seeing the pointlessness, Matt lets himself move and then opens his eyes. He feels that he's strapped to a bed, the kind that can raise his upper half like you see in a hospital; currently, Matt is almost sitting up. His injuries have been stitched upperfectly, Matt knows, though the one on his calf will still scarand his head feels a lot clearer than back in his apartment.

Matt knows the woman who is sitting in the chair just a foot away from him; it's the woman who, when he was sixteen, examined him with frightful intensity along with the other Leaders and declared _something_ special in him. Something that no one ever explained.

"Alexandra," Matt responds, because he _can._ When he learned her name long ago in the Hand, it was a name he was not allowed to speak (wasn't even supposed to _know)_ , because not only was she the head of the head, but they were not equals; he was a weapon, and he could not call a Leadera _master_ by her first name.

It sends a thrill through him to say it now. His own, small rebellion.

He can hear her smile. "I appreciate your fire, Red Devil. I am glad to see that Wilson did not break you."

Matt lets out a slow, measured breath. The use of one of his old titles and avoidance of his real name is deliberate. They are going to strip him of himself, and denying him the name _Matthew_ is just the small, first step.

"I'm surprised you let him keep you away," Matt says honestly. It's something that he's wondered about for a long time, and he has nothing to lose by asking. "The Hand wanted me backand today clearly showed how much. Why did you sit back for three years and let him keep me?"

Alexandra chuckles. "Curiosity, really. It was an experiment. Maybe a small amount of amusement. And at the time Wilson was a valuable ally, so we let him be. We had eyes on you every moment, of course. We watched you grow, watched you follow orders and do whatever you had to do. It was impressive. Your work with Wilson also was, so we were content to leave it be, for a while. Honestly, as soon as you went to the Avengers we were planning on grabbing you; Wilson calling us in saved us from having to break an alliance."

 _Curiosity, Experiment, Amusement._ The Hand left him with Fisk for three years because it _amused_ them. Matt clenches his teeth.

"When do we begin?" the blind man forces out. He doesn't have any proof, but he just _knows_ that Alexandra raises an eyebrow. "You didn't bring me back just to tie me to a bed," Matt snaps, his fear coming out as anger. "You know what I'm asking, so when do we fucking _begin?"_

Her smile is very, _very_ obvious. "Now. And I'm truly sorry to tell you, Red Devil, but this time is going to be a _lot_ worse."

* * *

When Natasha woke up after her fight with Matvey, she was in her bed at Avengers Tower with Steve and Tony sitting by her side. Clint was pacing the length of her room, the look on his face the one he always wore when he was analyzing a situation and running through probabilities.

Her first words were that they had to go, because something very bad was about to happen to Matvey, she simply _knew_ itit showed how much Steve and Tony had come to trust her in such a short time (and how Clint's trust had not, for one second, wavered after so many years) that they didn't hesitate to suit up, asking questions on the way.

After that, things went so horribly wrong.

When Natasha opens her eyes, it is to the bright white lights she recognizes as the medical wing at Avengers Tower.

She spends a moment taking stock of her body; there's a dull pain in both of her shoulders, and she knows that that pain would be worse if she wasn't currently pumped full of drugsnot that she couldn't handle it when it hit her, and she will _need_ to handle it soon; her mind needs to be clear for what's to come.

To her right, Natasha hears a very familiar breathing pattern, and allows a small smile to flit across her face before fading. She turns her head and sees Clint exactly where she expected him to be, slouched in a cushioned chair with his feet propped up on the edge of her hospital bed; he's sleeping lightly, and she knows the moment she so much as twitches he'll be awake and by her side, just as always.

To her surprise, she then becomes aware of two other people in the room. Turning her head to the left, she sees another hospital bed; Steve is sitting up in it, frowning at the wall, lost in thought. Tony is sitting in a chair identical to Clint's with his own feet extended onto another one, his focus on the phone in his hand on which he's typing furiously.

At that moment, Tony glances up and meets Natasha's gaze. "Ah, good! You're awake." His tone is light but his eyes don't match it.

Upon the genius' words, Steve jerks and turns his attention to her as well, offering her a tired smile, andlike she'd predictedClint instantly sits up, pulling his chair closer to her bed. Sensing her needs before she even thinks of them herself, the marksman reaches forward and presses the button on the bed to raise it so that she can be in a seated position without having to put strain on her body. She sends him a quick, grateful smile.

"The surgery went well," Tony says, his voice the one he always gets when he's going to babble. "Two swords to the shoulders can do some serious fucking damage but overall they were pretty clean shots and of course we have the best medical care and technology in the _world_ here so you'll be fine. Well, you'll be fucking sore for a while and you'll _definitely_ required PT but full recovery looks like it's on the table.

"Steve's gonna have a scar on his stomach, can you believe that? Super-soldier with a scar? He'd already started healing while the katana was in him so when the docs removed it the damage was kind of done. Of course, his insides are fine, he'll just be left with a reminder of this clusterfuck. So will you, come to think of it, and Clint's leg actually is pretty messed up because a _ninja stabbed him and twisted it a full circle_ and then birdbrain decided it was a good idea to _walk_ on said leg while _carrying a super-soldier_ and his _spy twin_ down three flights of stairs before collapsing!"

"Tony," Clint says calmly. "Breathe."

Natasha looks at her partner with a raised eyebrow and flicks her gaze down to see his leg. He's wearing sweatpants but she can see the edge of a bandage where one of the legs has ridden up; she raises her eyebrow higher. Clint smiles at her.

"I was the only conscious one," he explains calmly, not defensive. "You had two katanas pinning you to the hardwood, Steve was convulsing around one, and Tony wasn't back yet. We needed to get out of there, in case they got another order and decided to finish the job. I got us as far as I could before I passed out; Tony found us pretty soon after."

"Let me see," she commands quietly. He sets his jaw, not wanting to, which tells her that it's bad. When she doesn't back down, just looking at him, Clint sighs and rolls up his pant leg and unwinds the bandage. Natasha purses her lips.

Like Tony said, Clint will always carry a reminder. Scars aren't new to the two of themClint's back is a horror show because of the four times he's been seriously torturedbut this one could match all of that. It's jagged and wide and distorted, far worse that a thin-blade stab-wound would normally be; probably because the warrior had twisted it the full way 'round and then Clint walked on it carrying approximately 300lbs.

Natasha sighs. Clint gives her a crooked smile.

"Nasty, right?" he says, a slight amount of amusement in his voice; he's trying to make this whole thing easier. "I'll be able to walk on it just fine; already am, if a little limpyTony's got some good tech. But it'll always look this ugly, minus the stitches, of course."

After a moment, Natasha reaches over and takes his hand, squeezing it gently and then releasing.

"While we're on the subject of needing-to-get-out-of-there," Tony says, much more calm this time, "why didn't they kill you guys? Not that I'm not pleased, but..." he shrugs.

Clint is the one to respond, out of the two people in the room who fully understand. "Because we weren't the Hand's mission. The Hand works in a very specific way; they avoid any extra injuries or deaths that do not pertain to their mission, they're _very_ single-minded. Matvey was their missionthey only wanted him. Us showing up was a complication, and they incapacitated us so that they could carry out their mission. The injuries each of us sustained were not bad enough to kill us, only take us out for a while."

"So what's our next step?"

Natasha looks over at Steve, whose brow is furrowed in concern. A small pang of warmth for the captain hits her; he doesn't know Matvey, he hasn't even shared more than ten minutes in Matvey's presence, and yet he is ready to take on the Hand simply because he knows that Matvey is important to Natasha. It's the kind of uncompromising trust, belief, and loyalty that Clint has in her, and vise versa. It actually takes Natasha a moment to process it.

"The next step," a gravely voice calls from the doorway, making Tony jerk to his feet, "is that you pull your heads out of your asses and then help me find Matty."

In the entrance to Natasha's room stand two people, an old man with clouded eyes and a young woman with olive skin and luscious black hair. Natasha instantly knows that they are both dangerous.

"How the _hell_ did you get in here?" Tony yells.

The old man gives the genius a look that so clearly means _'Don't ask stupid questions'_ , to which Tony makes an affronted sound.

"Who are you?" Natasha asks the newcomers, her voice even.

The woman turns her gaze from scanning the room to look at Natasha. It's intense, her eyes sharp and scanning over Natasha like she wants to know everything about the spy in particular from the group.

"You can call me Stick," the old man tells her and the other Avengers, his chin jerking slightly towards Natasha in acknowledgment. She raises her eyebrows, recognizing the name.

"Leader of the Chaste," she says, nodding. When she'd been looking for Matvey after leaving Red Room, she'd come across a few Chaste members and learned about their leader; blind, but with enhanced senses just like Matvey. But how the head of a major shadowed organization knows Matvey well enough to call him _'Matty'_ , Natasha has no idea.

It's the man's turn to raise his eyebrows, and then he shakes his head. "Shouldn't be surprised that the Black Widow knows my name. And this-" he adds, nodding towards the woman next to him, "is Elektra Natchios."

Clint makes a sound of surprised amusement, drawing everyone's attention. Addressing the womanElektrahe says, "You tried to kill me twice." His voice is blunt, but not accusatory.

In response, Elektra looks amused and says, "Do you want an apology?"

The side of Clint's mouth raises in a half smile.

"Why are you here?" Steve asks, looking at the newcomers with a frown.

Stick takes a few steps further into the room and Elektra follows right behind him. "I helped Matty gain the will to escape the Hand when he was eighteen. Afterwards, I trained him to use his senses to their fullest capacity, and I tried to get him to fight with me; I have a bit of a soft spot for the kid. And Elektra here is an old friend of his. But more important than _sentiment,_ the Hand _cannot_ have Matty on their side again; he's too much of a threat."

"I don't get it," Tony says, shaking his head. "It's one guyseriously skilled, I get that, but still just _one guy._ Why does this giant terrorist organization want him so badly? Plus, while I'm asking you questions, Mr. Spy, why do you four-" he indicates the newcomers and then Natasha and Clint, "-seem to think that the guy is going to go dark side so easily? Thought he was your friend, Nat."

Natasha decides to answer the second question herself now, since she also wants to hear Stick's answer to the first.

"We don't think he's going to _'go dark side'_ of his own volition, Tonythe Hand has _perfected_ conditioning. They begin when their agents are still young, and they learn every single last detail about the person until they know them better than they know themselves. They use this intimate knowledge to get into the subject's mind, but unlike most who try this, they don't force their way in; it's a long and slow process and incredibly thorough.

"They did this to Matvey when he was sixteen and I still don't fully understand how he managed to break free of it long enough to escape." She glances at Stick. "Which I hope you explain at some point. But just because he got out, doesn't mean the conditioning was fully gone. The Hand won't have to try very hard to bring it out of him, and they'll back it up over and over again until it sticks."

She sighs. "Only earlier today Matvey described it as having his mind turned against him until his choices were no longer his own, with someone else's wants in his head and someone else's thoughts driving his actions. It was the reason he was working for Fisk; he said he would do anything to keep from having that happen to him again, and Fisk was keeping them away from him as long as he did what he said. And now he's living his worst fear."

"Well that's going to take some time, right?" Steve asks in concern. "I mean, that kind of stuff doesn't just happen overnight."

"It's already in Matty's head, Captain, like the Widow said," Stick tells the super-soldier. "It didn't happen overnight, it happened over the course of two years. They just need to bring it out again. You want a timeline?" the older man snorts. "Three weeks for it to be fully in his head again, three more for it to cement."

"So we have six weeks to find him before he's the Hand's weapon again," Clint sighs, leaning back in his chair.

"You didn't answer my first question," Tony points out. "What the hell is so special about Matvey or Matty or whatever the hell you want to call him? Because looking at his history, Red Room wanted him, Wilson Fisk wanted him, the Chaste clearly has a stake in him, and the Hand was _desperate_ for him back. So what's the deal?"

Stick and Elektra exchange a look.

Natasha narrows her eyes. "Red Room bought him from Hydra-" the spy ignores Steve's shocked sound, "-because of his unique abilities that could be cultivated and then he grew to be one of their top three agents, even without full mastery of his senses. Then the Hand bought him for I _thought_ the same reasons." She stares hard at Stick. "So why do two ancient organizations at war want him so badly, Stick?"

"Sorry, _Hydra-?!"_

"Later, Steve," Clint commands gravely.

The leader of the Chaste purses his lips, clearly unhappy. When he speaks, it is reluctant and annoyed.

"When the Hand bought Matt from Red Room, it _was_ for the reason you thought, Widow; Matty was an incredible agent and the moment word got out that Red Room was going to get rid of him, many organizationsmost only knowing him by reputationwanted him. The Hand simply paid the most." He sighs, shaking his head. "They usually do."

"And then?" Natasha prompts.

"Then..." Stick's jaw clenches and then releases. When he's silent for a few moments, Elektra lets out an annoyed breath and picks it up.

"The Chaste and the Hand have been at war for centuries for many reasons. They are both ancient, mystical organizations, each with their own sets of beliefsthe Hand's beliefs are a distorted, darkened version of the Chaste's. The Chaste organization comes from a place called K'un L'un and has a being called the Iron Fist, who is able to use his chi in ways others can't, which gives him very unique abilities."

"What does this have to do with-" Tony begins.

"Hush," Elektra commands. Tony looks like he's going to argue, but a look from Natasha stops him.

Natasha knows some of this, parts of the Chaste's history and the existence of the Iron Fist, but she wants to hear everything; this is a unique opportunity to learn about two shadowed organizations that barely  _anyone_ knows the full story of. And while she doesn't think the two assassins will tell them everything, they are telling them quite a lot.

Elektra nods her thanks, her eyes still sharp when she looks at Natasha in particular, and then continues. "The Hand believes in something called the Black Sky. It's a complex thing to understand-" Natasha doesn't miss how Stick's eyes flick to Elektra and then away, "-but it is a being only meant to be a weapon. Black Skies are born with this destiny in them, and they become something past any lives they might have had.

"Just last year, a young boy was brought into New York for further training; he was a Black Sky, and he was going to be the Hand's tool to destroy the Chaste. He was eliminated."

Natasha and Clint don't even blink at the admission of a child's assassination, but Natasha hears Steve's sharp intake of breath.

Making a guess from what Elektra is telling them, Natasha asks, "So are you saying that Matvey is a Black Sky?"

Elektra shakes her head, and Natasha feels a small bit of  _something_ release in her chest. "No, Matthew is not the Black Sky. He is..." there is a light smile on her lips, fond and awed, and Natasha can tell that it isn't meant to be seen. "He is just the opposite. We've seen that there are maybe three potential Black Skies alive at a time. They are very rare. Even rarer, however, is the Light Sky."

Clint raises an eyebrow.

"The Light Sky is supposed to be the equal and natural opponent of the Black Sky," Stick says, to which Tony snorts and mutters _'Yea, couldn't figure_ that  _out.'_  The leader ignores him. "As far as we know, only one ever exists at a time, and they are much harder to identify,  _especially_ if the person looking has never met one before. I had, so when I met Matty, it didn't take me long to identify him for what he is."

"But what does that mean?" Steve asks curiously. "What makes the Black Sky or the Light Sky any different from an incredibly skilled assassin, brainwashed or conditioned or not? What stops Natasha being called one, or Clint, or any other person who has trained as an assassin?"

"It's part of their being," Stick says. "I don't know how to describe it to you, becauseand no offenseyou're an outsider. You, Captain, will never fully understand our ways, let alone the mystics behind them."

"Try," Steve asks simply.

Stick sighs heavily, exasperated and annoyed. He does, however, try to explain. "We don't know why they are the way they are. The potential to fight in the Chaste or the Hand is open for everyone, if they have the will. The Black Sky, the Light Sky, then don't just  _have_ the potential, they  _are_ the potential. They are Vessels for the greater _More._ They _become_ the Light, the Dark. Now, that isn't to say that the Light Sky is all sunshine and rainbows; it is still a living weapon, and has immense powers of  _More._

"When the Hand realized what they had in their possession, they were presented with an incredibly unique opportunitywhile the Black Sky was destined to fight their battles, to be the bringer of shadows, the Light Sky was meant to fight them, to serve the Chaste and fight beside the Iron Fist. And yet, they had the Light Sky, and they made him serve them. If Matty had been with them for a few more years, I have no doubt that he would not know himself, and would not care to. He would simply be the Hand's Light Sky."

"I still don't understand," Tony grumbles.

"It," Natasha says softly, a contrast to her hard eyes as she stares at Stick. He tilts his head towards her. "You said  _It_ is a living weapon. You said the Hand realized  _what_ they had. You speak of Matvey as if you care for him and then you reduce him to no more than an  _object."_

Stick's gaze, though having blank eyes, is just as hard as he looks back at her.

"Because he  _is_ an  _It._ Because when the Hand took him back they did so with the sole purpose of turning him into their weapon, and in that _single moment_ when Matt fell he ceased to _be_ _'_ _he'_ and became _'_ _It'_ _._ The next time you see him, if we don't find him before his conditioning settles and gets amped upbefore they bring out  _what_ he isit will be on a battle field and he will not care that you two used to _love_ each other. That is, if he even _remembers_ you. He will not care, and he will not hesitate to drive a sword through your heart if given the opportunity."

Natasha presses her lips tightly together. She hates that she knows he's right.

_And then when I joined the Hand, they took it a step further; they turned my mind against me until my choices were no longer my own. The conditioning was intense and pressing and never-ending._

Somewhere, right in this moment, Matvey is being ripped apart.

_Someone else's wants in my head. Someone else's thoughts driving my actions._

They are getting rid of who he is. They are pulling him out and shoving something else back in.

 _And that, Natalia, is something I would do_ anything _to keep from happening again._

He might not even know who she is the next time she sees him. Or maybe he will, but he simply won't care.

"Six weeks," Elektra says. Her voice is cold, but Natasha is _very_ familiar with that particular tone; it's the one she uses when she is at war with herself but cannot under any circumstances let anyone see her inner turmoil. Elektra, all signs point to, feels quite a great deal for Matvey. Natasha can empathize. "We have six weeks until we have to kill him on sight."

"So let's find him," Steve says resolutely. Once again, Natasha feels that pang of warmth for the captain. "We can do this." When Stick rolls his eyes and everyone remains silent, Steve presses on. "Look at the people in this room." Making his point, he looks at each of them individually. "Four master assassin spies, a super-solider, and a billionaire genius. We can do this."

Tony sighs and rubs a hand across his face. "Well, I've got nothing better to do."

Once more, Stick snorts. "Look at you lot," he grumbles. "The only useful people for this situation in this room are the Black Widow and the Dark Archer."

At her side, Clint stiffens, and later Natasha will ask him if he can handle using his past identity to help them find and save Matvey. She will ask him if he is ok with Steve and Tony knowing all of what he used to be, like they know what she was. She will ask him if he can let himself be that again for the sole reason of her needing him to be.

She knows that he will say yes to each and every one of those things, because above all else Clint Barton is a terrifyingly loyal man, and somehow she has the privilege of his complete and utter faith.

But right now, she focuses on the fact that Stick is still talking, and she needs Stick's helpand Elektra'sto find her oldest friend before she loses him.

"But sure, what the hell," Stick sighs. "Not like having you guys could hurt."

"That's the spirit!" Tony exclaims, clapping his hands together. "So; let's find a super-assassin before he goes and gets himself completely brainwashed. Coffee?"

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Originally Bruce was gonna be in this (he has a mini "cameo" as Heartbeat #2 in the scene where Matt and Natasha reunite) but every time I tried to fit him in it didn't work, which sucks 'cause he's a good character to use. Never fear, Banner fans, he'll definitely be in the rest of the series! (Dunno about Thor though, 'cause he just annoys me to write. TBD)
> 
> 2\. Yes, Bucky WILL have a bigger role to come.
> 
> 3\. So I've read COUNTLESS articles about the Black Sky, I've researched for a long time, and for all my searching I couldn't find a single specific thing about what the Black Sky actually IS, so everything I said about the Black Sky and the Light Sky in this is completely from my own brain extrapolated from a few lines in the show and then tossing in some classic Marvel magic stuff. Because yay vague supernatural beings.
> 
> 4\. I've always thought Natasha and Elektra would totally understand each other and be BAMFs together, and I am PUMPED to write scenes between the two of them.
> 
> 5\. I'm planning on writing a small side story about Clint's past as 'The Dark Archer' because apparently I'm so in love with Hawkeye that even in a series completely centered around another character I can't help but give my baby attention. And for those wondering, Comics Clint does NOT actually have a dark Natasha-like background in which he's called The Dark Archer. But, ya know, I got an idea. Eh, we'll see how it goes.
> 
> 6\. Hope you enjoyed, and hope you stick around!!


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